


Holy Lover

by poiintless_writing



Category: Persona 5, Persona 5: The Royal - Fandom, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi is dramatic, Angst, Barista fic haha, Cafe Leblanc (Persona 5), Fluff and Angst, God idk how to do tags, Grief/Mourning, Internal Conflict, Listen Akira is sad, M/M, Metaverse (Persona 5), Persona 5 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poiintless_writing/pseuds/poiintless_writing
Summary: Akira had been tasked with changing fate, but he surely must have failed because the only ending he desperately wanted to rewrite remained the same.Akechi had been too young, too naive, a pawn unaware he was even standing atop a chess board. Disposable. Desperate. Akira too had been too young, too naive. In the end, he was powerless to help the victim who needed it the most. A product of hatred and manipulation, Akechi had only ever wanted love and honesty. Akira was selfish. Too absorbed in his own goals. He couldn’t even hear Akechi screaming out for help, he lied to himself thinking that it was simply muffled by a gunshot when that was his final desperate attempt to be heard by the one person who could have saved him. Killing Akira killed the last shred of life Akechi had, except Akira had survived and Akechi hadn’t.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Holy Lover

**Author's Note:**

> It's the anniversary of Akechi's death and Akira is only slightly heartbroken...
> 
> I started playing persona 5 Royal and still have yet to finish it but it brought back some major feelings about these boys and sadness thinking about akechi that I just needed to let out somehowwwww so why not through Akira's own experiences! Shit was rough but what if it... didn't have to be o.o  
> But anywho, enjoy!! Comments are always majorly appreciated xx
> 
> The title is inspired from Keaton Henson's song "Holy Lover". I felt like it could be a very.. them song >.<

The wooden door swung closed, sending a shiver through the nearby walls and floor boards. The bell chimed melodically, unaware of the atmosphere that Akira had allowed seep into the small café along with himself. He spun the rusting key in his fingers as he lingered in the doorway. Akira glanced at the real painting of Sayuri, still hanging on the wall after all the years, and not for the first time felt like he could understand the illusive emotion on her face. A melancholic longing, acceptance of the futility of imagining life to be anything other than what it was. Akira had been tasked to change fate and he, alongside the strongest people he had ever met, had done just that. Or so he thought. Fate was impossible to grasp, ever changing, a means to an end. Perhaps the events played out exactly as they needed to, their story was already written before it even began to play out, the ending decided. The idea of changing one’s fate a motivation that gives the push one needs in order to fulfill what was always their destiny. Nothing was changing in the grand scheme of things, only the minor details in between.

Akira sighed and dropped his leather bag to the floor, locking the door behind him, and turned to face the empty café. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until it escaped from his lungs shakily, the only noise audible in the early hours of the morning. He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them they had already managed to direct themselves to the one place he had hoped to avoid for as long as he could manage.

The _stool_. Akira felt pathetic at the way his heart clenched and his stomach turned, threatening to eject whatever he had eaten that morning. Already used to this reaction he had the forethought to skip breakfast until he had managed to open the store.   
The stool. His hands involuntarily balled into fists, nails pinching scarred skin, the only sensation that was grounding him at that moment in time as his mind was whisked away to four years prior, when a familiar head of hair would be covering the face of a boy, engrossed in the book in front of him, or the news that played on the tv nearby. His attention wouldn’t remain captured for long, sensing Akira’s return he’d turn with a grin to welcome him home, as easy as though he had been in the habit for years rather than a few short months.

Akira shook his head, willing the memories away. His body felt numbed but he forced himself to move anyway, mechanically edging his way behind the counter to grab his apron, automatically preparing the stove and kettles as he had done each morning for four years. He brewed himself a cup of coffee before continuing his duties. He had arrived twenty minutes early, aware he would need the time to steady himself and catch his breath. As he stood and waited for the coffee to filter through, Akira gripped the edges of the counter to keep himself from falling. His knuckles white with the strain. When the coffee was almost ready he pushed himself off the counter, retrieving two cups, filling them each with the fresh brew. In one cup he added cream and sugar and the other he left black. 

He placed the sweetened cup in front of the empty stool, his hand shaking as he attempted to put it down gently. Akira closed his eyes again and steadied his breath. A faint glimmer of hope flashed through his heart as he slowly reopened his eyes. Maybe this time, maybe that same brown... those red eyes would... But like every year that seat remained empty and Akira swallowed to try to dislodge whatever thickness had overcome his throat. 

He took a moment to simply watch the steam rise from the cup, his own coffee untouched and forgotten on the other end of the counter. When he felt he was able to speak again he opened his mouth, “Just the way you like it... Goro.”  
As the words left his mouth something in his heart crumbled and sent his mind reeling, thought of changing fates, destinies, friendships, pleading with himself, begging Akechi... 

Akira had been tasked with changing fate, but he surely must have failed because the only ending he desperately wanted to rewrite remained the same.

Tears threatened to break free of Akira’s eyelids, sobs desperately swallowed back down. He was too young, too naive, a pawn unaware he was even standing atop a chess board. Disposable. Desperate. Akira too had been too young, too naive. In the end, he was powerless to help the victim who needed it the most. A product of hatred and manipulation, Akechi had only ever wanted love and honesty. Akira was selfish. Too absorbed in his own goals. He couldn’t even hear Akechi screaming out for help, he lied to himself thinking that it was simply muffled by a gunshot when that was his final desperate attempt to be heard by the one person who could have saved him. Killing Akira killed the last shred of life Akechi had, except Akira had survived and Akechi hadn’t.

Akira dropped to his knees on the floor and sobbed into his elbows in a manner that resembled Futaba. The thought of her reminded Akira of the many cameras she still had hidden around the café, and pulled himself to his feet to struggle his way up the stairs into the attic where he knew was the only place Futaba had promised not to invade with her cameras and microphones. The one place he was safe to mourn in peace without alerting his friends. They could never bring themselves to mourn Akechi like Akira did, they all had only bad memories with him. No one saw the real side of Akechi, the shy side that could be bashful when smaller more hidden parts of himself were pointed out and praised. The childish side that could get overly competitive when it came to arcade games, the side that was just a boy who enjoyed jazz and talking with a friend. Akira had been a terrible friend.

With a heavy sigh and clouded vision he made his way onto his old mattress, uncaring of the layer of dust that had settled on top, taking Akira’s place after he had moved out. He couldn’t stop the tears and he no longer wanted to. Instead he set a timer on his phone, a reminder that he needed to collect himself and finish his duties before Sojiro arrived and opened the café. Five minutes. That was all he was allowed to process the emotions swirling inside of him. It was longer than he usually allowed himself, but it was an important day to Akira.   
The anniversary of Akechi’s _disappearance_. The thought made him feel sick, not only from grief and regret but from anger and disgust with a world that allowed itself to forget that he ever even existed.

Shido. Even after he confessed..Even with the change of heart... he didn’t acknowledge Akechi. The way he had ruined an innocent lonely child who wanted, no, _needed_ a parent. The way he manipulated that desire, distorted it. In return for praise and acknowledgment Akechi had been given a gun and a list of names.  
Akira fumed. He held his head down towards his knees, hands locked tightly around his neck, pulling hairs that got caught in between his fingers. Goro Akechi had been a child. Akira would have been arrested a thousand times over at the hands of Shido, beaten and abused in a cell for hours on end, if it had just meant that Shido would have been too busy to ruin Akechi’s life. But in the end, Akechi was the one imprisoned and abused and Shido hadn’t even confessed to it. 

There wasn’t even a funeral to attend, a moment to say goodbye. “You’re so lucky.” He had said to them. Akira didn’t feel lucky. He felt like his heart had shattered beyond repair the moment that door closed between them.

Lost in his memories, Akira didn’t notice the wind that blew through an open window beside him, the curtains rustling finally capturing his attention. He turned, confused, wondering absentmindedly who had left the window open during the cold winter, when suddenly a feather that was caught in the gust found its way inside, gently floating onto the mattress, centimeters away from where Akira was sat.  
He felt dazed, the air around him thick, a sensation that was once so familiar but now a distant memory. As Akira plucked the feather up between his thumb and forefinger he felt, unmistakably, as though he had entered the metaverse again for the first time since they had defeated Yaldabaoth. He examined the feather closely, unsure of what he was looking for in the details before the realisation finally dawned on him.

Akira froze. The feather fell from his hand and he stood, slowly, unsteadily. He was gasping for breath, his mind a flurry of thoughts, questions. His chest felt tight, and his heart faltered, but not from grief and pain but from hope. Hope and anxiety. He thought back to the painting of Sayuri still hanging on the wall downstairs. He thought back to her expression and, for the first time, understood the emotions behind it. The look in her eyes.. it wasn’t despair and acceptance, it was hope and a love that knew no bounds. It was a look of understanding for the hardships to come but the knowledge that it would, in the end, be okay for them both so long as they had eachother.

Akira looked at the feather where it had fallen onto the wooden floor. It was a crows feather.

His feet sprung into action and he took the stairs two at a time, racing back down to the café, slowing as he neared the end. A fuzziness filled his ears, the only sounds audible to him was his heart crashing against his rib cage. His body shook as he took the final steps, turning the corner to reveal the same room he had been in only a few minutes ago. It was the same as how he left it, the curry was simmering on a low heat on the stovetop, the kettle still steaming from the freshly boiled water, his coffee still untouched where it had been prepared. Except for the stool. The stool that was once empty was now claimed, not by the boy with the long hair that covered his face, but by a man whose brown hair was cut short and shaved close to the neck, his face fully visible as he examined the coffee cup he held in his gloved hands.

“The coffee is perfect, thank you. I’m surprised you remembered my tastes.” The man said, voice calm and devoid of any discernible emotions. He didn’t look away from the cup but placed it back down gently onto the counter.

Akira took a step forward and the man turned to watch him. Red eyes met with Akira’s.

“Akechi.” Was all Akira managed to say, his mind failing him. Akechi smiled politely from his seat, turning his body to properly face Akira.

“Long time no see.” The steadiness to his voice faltered slightly, an emotion Akira couldn’t place threatening to escape, Akechi’s lips twitching at the very corners.

It took a beat before Akira was able to process the face that was in front of him, very much so alive. Akechi sat patiently waiting for Akira to recollect his thoughts. “You..” he began and faltered once more, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Akechi’s lips straightened at the comment, barely noticeably but Akira had spent enough time learning to pick up on every quirk and give away Akechi had to offer. He was displeased. “Are you disappointed to see my return?”

Akira shook his head, doing more harm than good for his dizziness, he rested a hand against the wall to keep himself upright. “No. I’m just...surprised, I mean...” He let out a shakey breath, running his other hand through his hair. “You died.” Akira stated. He had died. Noone had seen it but the gunshot still rang through Akira’s head late at night, a reminder of his biggest failure. How could he have survived?

Akechi perked up at that, his head cocking to the side as a sly smile took over his thin lips. Akira felt trapped in place under the full weight of Akechi’s gaze now that he didn’t have a fringe to hide behind. His eye’s were so wide and emotive. He looked so... _alive_.   
“Oh Akira... you aren’t the only one capable of faking their own death you know.” He raised a hand to interrupt Akira before he could bombard him with questions of how, when. “It would best for the both of us if I didn’t elaborate further on the topic.” He picked up his cup again and finished what remained while Akira moved further into the room, deciding to stand behind the counter, keeping a distance between himself and the man who had tried to kill him, twice. Akechi had sacrificed himself for them all but there was no telling if he had grown to regret that decision over time.

“Would you like another cup?” Akira asked, feeling as though he needed to fill the silence that had befallen them like the experienced barista he was. 

Akechi smiled amicably and shook his head. “I would love nothing more, however, I mustn’t overstay. I had only wanted to..” He faltered, seemingly unsure how to continue. “I wanted to see you, once more, before I left Japan. See what life you had made for yourself.” 

“You’re leaving Japan?” Akira clenched his fists and bit his inner cheek to force himself to quieten before he said something he would regret. His brows furrowed as he tried to calmly reword his thoughts.  
“Four years...” He started, settling on simply being honest with Akechi. They had danced around eachother for too long and lost too much time in the process because of it. “Four years I spent believing you were gone. Four years I left a cup of your favourite coffee at that seat in your _honour_ and you show up, like I had dreamed about for years, here again in front of me and alive and it’s just to tell me that you would be leaving?” He couldn’t stop the anger that seeped into his words as his voice raised despite himself. He shook his head and avoided meeting Akechi’s stare as he collected himself. He couldn’t bring himself to see what expression he would be wearing. In the distance his phone buzzed where he had left it on the mattress. His five minutes of feeling sorry for himself was over, it was time to get himself together.  
“I won’t pretend to understand the situation you may be in right now Goro. If you say you need to leave then... I appreciate you taking the time to.. visit beforehand.” He gripped the edges of the counter once more, knuckles whitening. His mind was unfocused, overwhelmed and attempting to rewrite four years worth of memories to include the knowledge that Akechi had survived. Reassessing every moment for any hints that he had not noticed of Akechi’s presence. Surely he hadn’t simply avoided them all until just this moment... he knew Akira was still working at LeBlanc at the very least, he must have looked into his life even the littlest bit. The thought hurt more than Akira was willing to allow himself to admit. Could he truly have not looked for him any sooner than this moment?

He was startled out of his turbulent thoughts by a weight on his hand. He looked up to see Akechi reaching out with his other hand slowly, allowing Akira time to move if he wanted, moving closer when he made no show of rejecting the gesture and placing it gently on Akira’s cheek. Akira’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, allowing his senses to take in the feeling and smell of the leather glove against his skin, causing waves of nostalgia to flow through his heart.  
“I can’t lose you again.” His voice was quiet. The words escaping him before he could hold them back. They were too selfish. He couldn’t make the same mistake again.

Akira opened his eyes as he felt Akechi shift, removing his hands to sit back into his chair properly. He had said the wrong thing. He watched the way Akechi’s face hardened, his jaw clenching. He looked his age for the first time since Akira had met him. All hard edges contradicting the roundness of his cheeks. His large eyes, once a useful tactic to subconsciously gain others trust and adoration now seemed more narrow in shape and wrinkles had settled around the edges. He looked natural and aged. Skin care was no longer a high priority now that he was out of the face of the public, Akira presumed. He looked tired, a struggling adult lost in a world truly on his own, and yet... the tension that was usually present in every inch of his body had seemed to disappear. He looked more confident in his life than ever before. He was no longer simply confident in his abilities, he was confident in who he was as a person, in the life he chose to live.

Akechi didn’t speak for another moment, exhaling sharply. “Hiding from you was the hardest part of the past four years. I wished desperately to find you and after christmas I suppose things were less complicated. I could have reached out to you.” Akechi scanned Akira’s face for a reaction, any emotion, continuing when he was satisfied that Akira had fully processed the information. “Why didn’t I? I’ve asked myself that question ever since my circumstances became far too complex to allow me to reach out to you and only recently did I admit to myself that I was afraid. I was afraid of how you might react, afraid to further face my own mistakes. I still had much work to do on myself before I could, with certainty, be someone worthy of being a part of your life.” Akechi hesitated, deciding on his next words. “I heard.. you were taken to a juvenile detention centre. I found out mid January when I was considering seeking you out. Not that it was hard information to come by, mind you. The leader of the phantom thieves arrested for destruction of property? Quite a catching headline. When I heard... I couldn’t help but feel more than partly responsible. I presume Sae-san encouraged you to turn yourself in to allow for the proper arrest of Shido?” Akechi’s voice faltered saying Shido’s name. He winced, almost imperceptibly.

“Goro..” Akira began. 

“Don’t.” He responded, putting an immediate end to whatever it was Akria was about to say, himself unaware of the words necessary to console Akechi on his past abuse at Shido’s hands. There was no malice to the word, however, Akira noticed, only a desire to extinguish that particular topic. “Well, when you were released, I felt too ashamed to face you. Afraid of how much you might have grown to hate me. I couldn’t bear it. So I did the best thing I ever have for you.” Akechi locked his eyes onto Akira’s own, unfaltering. “I let you be.” 

Akira was stunned. “You let me be?” It was hard to accept that Akechi had felt like taking himself out of Akira’s life would be a positive move, but he quickly remembered that he had pulled a gun on him twice, pulling the trigger to his forehead with unwavering conviction, he remembered why he chose to stand with the counter between them. Akechi hadn’t forgotten and Akira was sure he had noted the distance. Akira wasn’t sure how to respond and Akechi seemed to have said all he wanted to.  
“We would have accepted you back in, you know. We would’ve tried to help you.”

Akechi nodded. “I know that some of you would have tried to help, but acceptance is impossible. I don’t expect forgiveness. That would not have been my intention in coming back.” Catching himself he added, “That isn’t my intention of coming to see you now either.”

“So what was your intention?”

The question hung between them, like a weight neither were prepared to lift on their own, but perhaps.. if they worked together...

Akechi had started to insist that he had already explained his motives but stopped himself with a heavy sigh, his body slumping into the back of the chair. “I... I wanted to see you. Of course to see how you were doing, but.. for more selfish reasons I wanted to see you once more. It didn’t feel right leaving the country without one more conversation. A conversation that I hoped might lead me to finding another course of action.”

Akira’s heart skipped a beat at what he had insinuated, that he didn’t _want_ to leave. That only suggested that his reasons for moving were less than fueled by desire. The thought was somewhat a comfort to him, glad to know that Akechi wasn’t leaving _him_ by choice, but he was also deeply concerned by what would drive Goro Akechi, a supposedly dead boy, to flee the country. He stood up straighter, his heart filled with a determination he hadn’t felt since he was sixteen. “Who are you running from?” Akechi laughed sadly, turning his attention to his hands on his lap. “Goro, we can help you. You don’t need to keep hiding or running.”

Akechi stood from his stool and gave Akira an apologetic smile. “Out of desperation I made some hasty and foolish decisions. My choices and my mistakes are my own responsibility. I swear to you I am not in any danger but if any of you were to meddle or to be associated with me, you could be. I am not running from my mistakes anymore Akira. I am facing them head-on and chasing leads that I allowed lose my sight of for too long. This conversation of ours has allowed me to focus myself once again on my goals and so I thank you for your assistance.” He extended a hand to Akira. “Perhaps we will cross paths again, someday in the future.”

Akira stared at the hand in front of him. The same hand that had held his, that was so gentle against his face. The same hand that helped him to stand again after being knocked down by enemies, that squeezed his shoulders when he was stressed and overthinking, calming his thoughts. The same hand that was now outstretched as though they were _colleagues_.

Akira slapped it away and moved around to the other side of the counter. He ignored the shocked Akechi’s shocked expression, the way he flinched as though he expected to be attacked, and reached out to pull him into a firm hug. His hands gripped at his sweater as though he could vanish at any moment. Which was unfortunately likely. Akechi froze under his touch before slowly lowering his own hands to Akira’s back, burying his face into his shoulder. Akira could feel him breathing heavily through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

“I could come with you.” Akira whispered.

Akechi shook his head, burrowing further. “You have a life here. Friends, a family.” It broke Akira’s heart to hear the defeated tone in his voice despite his efforts to muffle himself as much as possible.

“You are my friend.” Akira insisted. “You are family. You were a phantom thief for a while you know.” Akira could feel the shake of Akechi’s chest more than he could hear the laugh that erupted from him.

Akechi pulled away but only enough to look up at Akira. “Someday. You’ve reached the end of your story Akira, but mine has only just begun.” 

Before Akira could open his mouth the fleeting feeling of Akechi’s lips against his own silenced him. His heart felt frozen, trapped in a time long ago he never thought he would ever revisit until this moment. His arms hung uselessly in the air as Akechi stepped away and with a smile, a real, genuine smile that caused the skin around his eyes and nose to crinkle, showing his teeth in a way that was less charming but far more endearing, Akechi waved and left. Just as suddenly as he had appeared Akechi was gone. The sound of the door shutting behind him echoed through Akiras ears, the memory of the metal doors closing between them resurfacing to the front of his mind. Suddenly, he had lost him all over again.

Time passed immeasurably as Akira stood in place, watching the air where a ghost had been. Without thinking his hand rose to touch the place where Akechi’s own had rested, his fingers coming away wet. He wasn’t sure when he had started crying. Mechanically he wiped his face with his sleeve and returned to preparing the curry just before the sound of Sojiro’s keys unlocking the front door broke the endless loop of the slamming metal in Akira’s head. Sojiro entered with a stream of complaints about the snow outside, the ice, the broken heating in his home he couldn’t fix... But Akira couldn’t hear a word he said. His attention was again focused solely on the café door.

Akechi was gone. He was so close but managed to slip away once more. But Akira found that it no longer bothered him. He could rest easier knowing he was alive and not in seemingly too much danger. No, what bothered Akira was the locked door Akechi must have entered and left from. The feather that’s existence shifted in Akira’s palm. Whispers of the metaverse were all around him. A defeated laugh sprung from Akira’s lips, finally realising Akechi had recreated one of Akira’s best moments, an illusory meeting between them. A clever touch, noone could accidentally enter the store and see him if he wasn’t ever really there, and Akira couldn’t attack him either. He had protected himself well, prepared for anything as he always was.

Despite the empty feeling in his stomach and the ache from his thawing heart, Akira couldn’t help but feel.. lucky knowing Akechi had gone through such length just to see him. As Akira cleaned away the two cups he prepared earlier, he felt no pain in taking away Akechi’s, which remained empty, instead he was unbearably hopeful and excited for the next chance they would have to see eachother, and above all else, he felt incredibly lucky to have Akechi in his life once more.

This time.. Akira vowed he was going to protect him.


End file.
